Dysfunctional Family From Hell
by woundedowl
Summary: They had all been a family, once. The higher demons, the blues the red, the grays, the queens; once they were all just a kingdom. Their people and their king. The clans and the clansmen. What might have been the royal family before the war destroyed it? Part of the group prompt with BettyBest2 and Lickitysplit. Read at your own mental peril
1. Chapter 1

They had all been a family, once. The higher demons, the blues the red, the grays, the queens; once they were all just a kingdom. Their people and their king. The clans and the clansmen. What might have been the royal family before the war destroyed it? One-shots revolving around things better off forgotten.

A/N: please have fun reading this, it's all just for fun. I wanted to go into the small little things that are never really talked about in the manga.

Prompt idea one: the way you said "I love you", as a hello

* * *

The Demon King was not just a person. The top figurehead the rest of his kind obeyed. The King will have no faults. No weaknesses. The pinnacle of their clan's power and will. In the circle of life that was cruel, unbiased, where good men died just as well beside the darkest of souls, and there was no amount of pinning or begging that changed death, where battles weren't waged for good or bad, but because of _blood;_ he was a pillar above the rest of the rotting corpses on the battlefield.

There was no such thing as a "kind" Demon king.

"Hello boy," Lucifer tried again to place the stuffed toy in his son hand. "What have you been up to?"

The black eyes of his first and only offspring, his son, glared up from where he sat inside his play pen. His blonde locks a mess and fuzzed out in every direction, his blue onesie and white fluffy baby boots deceptively giving the boy an almost pure aura.

Lucifer knew better. Around the prince were stuffed animals, or what was left of them. Torn up with fluffing and cotton spewed in every direction, the torn heads littered by his feet as well as arm and legs of various toy animals thrown around. He had only begun such actions since his teeth started to appear, and Lucifer took a glance to the side, seeing where the maids were making themselves "busy" tidying up the room, keeping a large berth around the child. He must have been terrorizing the staff again, as his father held his meetings elsewhere.

The king was terrifying. He was powerful. He commanded the very _being_ of tens of thousands of his own kind with his will alone. And right now, he was kneeling in front of his son with a stuffed goddess toy in his hand. A special made request he had commissioned from the rather grumpy royal toy maker. It's delicate wings were puffy and white, the silver hair tied back in a cute red ribbon and the eyes made of shiny buttons. A happy pout on it's face as the light blue dress felt soft in the King's hand. It was disgusting.

So when Meliodas finally grabbed it and put the toy's head in his mouth, ripping off the goddess wings with a hand at the same time as the loud tearing noise tore through the room, Lucifer cooed, ruffling his boy's hair as he spit out the goddess head into a pile of other toys.

That's my boy, Lucifer grinned.

The Demon King was a _person._


	2. Chapter 2

They were a family, once. A long time ago. And what comes with a family isn't always easy. There would always be hardships and trials, denial and stress, bonds to be dealt with. But in the end no matter what it seemed, they were _family_.

The way you said "I love you.", With a hoarse voice, under the blankets.

Chapter two

* * *

When the Demon King enters a room his presence freezes people. They stare, or bow, or think frantically of how to survive the encounter. Usually, His most well known assets know how to hide away, to keep away from his notice. After all, the supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without having to fight. His people knew better, and there is no reason for anyone to be in this room. It was too late to finish any more business, not as the night bled to dark and the more… conspicuous members of his people came out to play.

That was usually.

Lucifer lets his sight roll over to the blob of darkness quivering in front of his desk. The two occupants in the room are waiting for him, the sense of _fear_ _anticipation_ _respect_ _horror_ bouncing back and forth between them. Slouched into the cushioned seat in front of his throne- a desk really, as informal as he could find, as they were far more pleasant. And with the added benefit that offering the enemy a cup of tea and biscuits always seemed to terrify them much more then a dark gloomy imposing throne made out of their families' bones ever did- a delicate tea cup is handed to him by the troll; a rattling cup, held up by an assortment of tentacles of the person in front of him. And, this was _not_ what he was expecting.

The little cretin squeaks and gurgles, her giant dozens of eyeballs spanning the spine of her back and stomach, is rather disappointing as she shook in fear. Lucifer sits there in boredom, as a cup is poured for him as well and he relaxes into his chair.

A series of guttural sounds and dark magic screeches from the demon's skin, as unfortunately his brethren wasn't blessed with a series of useless mouths to go with the eyes she wasn't using. After she is done the blob sinks, all but becoming a formless blob of black ink on his floor. And he swears it's starting to sob.

"You quit." Lucifer says back, slowly, like he's tasting each word. Another, horrible shriek echoes through the room, louder than any other, and then the blob starts sobbing uncontrollably. All forty nine eye's she has throwing disgusting tears everywhere with. Lucifer looks to the side of her, where the troll pulls out a package of parchments.

The boogeyman was suing the _Demon_ king. For _damages_.

There is a moment of silence. As the boogeyman just kept crying. Then, the king brought a hand up to his face, closing his eyes.

He stood, walking straight to his son's room, leaving the broken and mentally destroyed woman to be cleaned up by someone else. He swung open the door, the room in pitch black in front of him. But even through the dark he made out his son's eyes staring out at him through it.

"You tried to eat the boogeyman."

The accusation somehow sounded more annoyed than what he wanted, and, this little fucker- maybe somewhat approving even as he tried his hardest to express his disdain for the turn of events. But Meliodas just kept sitting in the middle of his bed, his legs tucked under him, his chubby features paired with hollow round eyes.

"Get in there runt, before I remake you," he walks forward, not touching him as his darkness lunged forward, stabbing the boy by the ankle before he can even formulate a way to bolt. The child's expression doesn't change for a moment as he is hung upside down in the air by one leg before being swung to the top of his covers. His blankets are pulled back with a thought and Lucifer immediately stuffs the boy under before wrapping thick chains of magic around him.

Technically, hog tying his son to the bed was the same as tucking him in.

"You are going to end up alone, with no one here at night to send you to sleep." the king says simply, picking up a pillow and putting it over the boy's face as Meliodas scowls. "Who is going to tuck you in at night, if you keep _eating_ them," he says blandly.

"No," is the muffled reply, and Lucifer can't help himself at his son's even voice. "Oh, do you really think I will keep wasting resources on you?" there's a moment, a pause, before he answers.

"You're here," Meliodas monotones back with a hoarse voice, under the covers, "You'll come." His offspring's blank expression shifts for a single moment, the voidness of his eyes that Lucifer enjoyed immensely narrowing into an imitation of glee. Lucifer eyes the tiny hand sneaking out of the top blanket. How did he get that free, Lucifer wonders before he huffs.

He suppose the boy was right.


	3. Chapter 3

The Demon Clan were the _monsters_ of this world. They looked evil, they sounded and acted evil. Anyone and anything created by a _demon_ was born tainted. Born so twisted, look at them. Their figures and grotesque features disgusting and terrifying to everyone. If they were born so damned, so evil, then why, when the demons looked at each other... all they saw were people?

Prompt idea three: the way you said "I love you", as a scream

Chapter three

* * *

The Demon King did not just hear screams of fear and pain. It wasn't always hoarse cries, mentally breaking screams promising for his demise, or fervent curses from the mouths of babes or woman or hysterical pleading men before they died. The demon King knew that fighting the same enemies again and again wasn't an option, fight someone too often and he would teach them all his art of war. Better to kill them. War does not determine who is right- only who is left.

He remembered, fondly, with a heavy feeling of satisfaction the creative curses a Giant woman had come up just hours prior. She bled out slowly on his nice, just polished marble floor. And Giants had a significant volume of blood. She left a mess, trying to slide towards him on her belly, her legs gone as they gushed like rivers. That didn't stop the spittle and screams, with _just_ the hint of hysterical edge of disbelief she could die, that the king never understood. He had spotted his staff going green in the corner as vomit and other things went flying; this Giant had been part of a peace offering, by some-tribe-or-whatever- he didn't keep up with that Clan. A mother, a nurturer, a seamless gift that the Clan had recommended as the finest nurse maid anyone could find in Britannia; to watch whatever and how many other children the Demon Clan wanted. With soft skin, delicate pinned up curls, and demure expressions, a layer of curves and weight that showed a sheltered life, no scars to be seen with pink hued dusted cheeks, and a soft voice. A soft, _unthreatening_ woman without callouses on her hands, wearing the finest thread in her gowns. A useless, weak, unthreatening, does as told, soft, _princess_ who looked after the children with a soft and demure voice. An olive branch.

She lasted an hour. Lucifer thought back, tilting his head to rest onto his hand. His elbow propped up on his throne as he day dreamed. Her sobs had been like a grating infant when their mother wouldn't pick them up. He had made sure the fire had slowly crept up her flesh; the fat and extra weight that had once been a symbol of her clan ranking now an excellent conductor for the flames to leech onto. She died in one of his no name, unimportant rooms that he'd forget about in a couple days. Which left ample time to finish up his work in relative relaxation. And- _a grin curved up his face_ \- when her clan had come with four others to continue negotiations, pretending nothing was amiss, like they _didn't know what they had just done. That his kind were simple animals, too dumb to **know** ; _well, his maids were still grumbling about getting the first mess out of the creases in the tile when he added more workload for them to do.

The Demon King wasn't kind, but it didn't mean he didn't understand _psychology_.

Meliodas had come back with the wrong type of hollow eyes today. His shoulders hunched, his darkness beautifully flaring across his young face. His son with a ripped part of fabric in hand, but his _insides_ ….

The kindergarten had went out this morning. As the training exercises; the older squads pulling straws for who would take responsibility for twenty some odd toddlers and teach them basic skills- Like, don't eat each other. No you can't eat the ground. No you can't eat yourself to become more of you. No you can't make your darkness more _dark_ by standing really still and looking constipated. Essential information.

They had left earlier, gone for most of the afternoon and to the west end. Now that the boy could walk and talk he could learn. The ground had gone far enough into the borders of the kingdom while still outside of guard walls. They had been practicing, pulling forth their darkness. Pulling or tugging, someone always tried to bargain with it. It was a mix in his son's class. This generation was majority Blue, and Lucifer could remember his son always running around the castle with three or more Blue children that still were unable to fly. The children were all small wisps of what they could become as adults, with potential. It was their first mission. All the dangers fake. There, they could have naturally fed off the situation and expand in the controlled environment, until those children could pull forth their power. A simple thing.

The King had hung all five of the kindergarten watchers when they returned that afternoon.

It was unfortunate. They were great assets to the Clan. Strong, scarred and powerful showcasing their worth. The crowd that watched as three men- one, always one, screamed. Useless words. Wasted hollars that had the same hysterically begging as the Giant- and he died the same, hanging and swinging back and forth between the other four. But not before Lucifer had made the order for them eat each other hearts. Their own comrades and team mates, their very friends held them down and forced open their jaws, shoving the meat down the screaming men and one woman's throats; so they would lose their minds before their lives.

They died in front of one the largest crowds in centuries. His people were spread out in war effort, but for this they all appeared. The thousands, the entire capital watched, surrounded them on the ground and the sky crowded until the numbers were so large they blocked out the sun and casted a black shadow over the entire top of the capital. It was an eerie silence that came with tens of thousands of silent watchers. Not even the wind swayed, the world void of sound in solidarity.

The kindergarten had left with twenty seven children. They returned with eight; the Blue demons now a minority. It was a betrayal from the Giant Clan, as all along they had planned to exterminate the children, only needing some way to get close enough to do it. And in a guise of a gentle, kind woman, they knew when they would have no one to protect them. The demon king ordered the head of the princess- charred and half melted from fire- and her demon lover that had betrayed them, sent to her clan in a box made out of the dead guard's flesh.

There were many types of screams. He'd heard many today. Needless ones, useless ones, defeated and broken one, elated and terrified; The Demon King knew many types of screams.

The muffled one into his shoulder now, was the most detestable.

Lucifer is like a statue, the room silent. Thousands of eyes stared at him. Nothing moved. Nothing dared to breathe in, afraid it would be loud enough to bring unwanted attention. Lucifer looked outward, his face carved into stone. Demons didn't need faces, it was unnatural after all. Tiny fingers, warped in black clawed at him from where his son laid in his lap. His head pressed into his mass as Meliodas sobs, after sob after sob _after sob after sob_ -

The demon king knew a lot of screams. And, as he held his son, who had experienced his first betrayal in this life; the Giant Princess who had used sweet word and gently tones, soft hand that his boy had leaned into, whispers of loves and shelter to get close enough to kill children- because to them there were just _beasts, monster who_ _needed to die_ , the plan of espionage successful as they buried their young tonight; he listened to his son's screams with a passive glance.

And the following morning was filled with screams. The Demon king ordering his Ten Commandments to kill every woman, man, and _child_ of the traitorous Giant clan of the North.


	4. Chapter 4

The kingdom was still a running operation of things to do. The Demon King didn't just go around going _"boo"_ and stealing souls. Sometimes he had to do paperwork.

Chapter four of the prompt; The way you said, "I love you," with a cup of tea.

Chapter four

* * *

Drinking tea was not Lucifer's past time.

It had too many steps. Too many niceties. Far past the point of _sophistication and pleasantries_ , and advantages made in negotiations was outweighed by the Demon King's personal dislike of the drink, and any an edge in political talk was simply, no, it was just flat out _pretentious._

Finding the right _leaves,_ cultivating them? Doing all of this for one flimsy little drink? They were _leaves. Twigs and flowers. Leaves._ An expensive, hand crafted little cup that could be held up with a baby's pinkie; on a platter. Everything had an order, that had to be followed for polite sale, made of rare and refined glass and porcelain and rare minerals. Everyone liked their tea differently.

Giants wanted it straight, no sugar, but seemed to find it pleasant with a splash of _milk._ Vampires hated any tea that was sweet, the gentle but acidic teas of european origin was despised, with curled upper lips and flashes of fangs. But the darker and stronger brew from over the ocean made their eyes glaze over. Spoiled little leeches. Imps were fine with whichever brews they were handed, as they were the food connoisseurs of The country, their reviews were held with deep respect. Goddesses, though,- _when he_ had to _invite them_ \- were ridiculous. Children without supervisors. Always experimenting, always looking to see what something might taste like. They always were changing, never the same from person to person. With tea filled with milk or soy beans or cocoa or other tea leaves or foam or green liquorish or black, or putting peppermint into it or dabbing it with a stick of cinnamon, or served blazing hot or cold or with an ice cube in it or twenty scoops of sugar or no sugar, or just served alone, but never the bloody same. And Fairies-

The Demon King's eyebrow twitched. The goblin presenting his case in front of his Grace froze, his one eye in the center of his head bugging out in horror, as a small hissed squeak bubbled from his mouth. The other goblins there, who were here for negotiations for the… whatever -Lucifer had his cup in one hand as he slouched in his chair, on hand resting against his chin; the contents of his drinks swishing back as forth as he rotated his wrist- and the goblins seemed too worried to move, looking around and unsure what to do, as his throne room was full.

His Ten Commandment of _thou shalt not lie_ was munching loudly on a bag of chips in his chair beside him, not even looking up for the proceedings. Not that he _could see,_ as he was born with six arms and two heads but seemed to forget where to invest eyeballs. So the Demon King gulped down the brew in one go and- he looked over as a maid automatically refilled his cup when his arm went back down- _what was the terms of this argument again? It could not be that impo…_

The doors to the room slammed open. Which had everyone turning to look across the room to where the double doors hit the wall, the guards choking and standing taller as a foot tall figure stalked into the room. The son of the king, boots stomping loudly and black cape around his shoulder, dragging behind him as he walk-ran as dignified as he would into the room.

Lucifer looked downwards as Meliodas stopped in front of them, their eyes locking.

"Why are you covered in blood?" Lucifer said blandly. And yes, the boy's face was splattered with the substance, his boots matching the red soaking through his shirt. _What did he do now?_

"Teach me to fly," he huffed. Black eyes narrowing.

"You're four," Lucifer was willing to put aside his curiosity for a second as his son scowled, crossing his arms. "Four year olds stay on the floor."

"No, they don't," Meliodas genuinely seemed to believe that, his chin tilting up and he stood taller, his voice even as he said, "Gowther can fly, so can Michillian and Galgalim."

Lucifer stared. His commandment was still loudly munching on chip after chip, and the goblins before him almost looked constipated as they stood there silently.

"Gowther is a floating doll," he says slowly, "and Galgalim is _literally_ just a floating head."

Meliodas stared at the King, the Demon King stared back. It seemed- Lucifer mused as he put his cup down and motioned for a maid servant to step forward- that toddlers existed to be independent rulers of the universe.

"Make him a cup."

Meliodas hesitated for a second before stepping forward, ignoring the existence of the trembling on eye goblin and his crew, and took the cup with another moment of staring, unable to resist the call of the sweet and soothing smell of flowers. His son wanted many things; he craved to tear blocks apart, to learn and eat, but he had one weakness, tea.

It was perhaps why Lucifer still drank it. His sight turned back to the goblin speaker, the short grumpy, fat little weasel shaking with the strength to hold his tongue.

"I take it this won't be a problem?" Lucifer said absently, as Meliodas took another gingerly sip of from his cup, his eyes going half lidded. The boy now located in the center of the Demon King's lap, staring over the desk to loom down on the group as his father was.

"Of-of course not your majesty!" The embassador all but yelled, dabbing at the sweat under his eyelid.

And the Goblin name Sharkclaw turned to stone.

The King's commandment snickered beside him as the rest of the group paled, even still eating as the rest looked on in horror. Meliodas took another sip, blinking slowly, uninterested as the new statue was finally taken by the maids, dragged out to join the other, as a decorated lawn ornament. The other five goblins finished up the meeting as fast as they could.


	5. Chapter 5

It wasn't that his children didn't need watchers. It was just The King couldn't find any that would stay to watch them. And, it is easier to build strong children than to repair broken men.

Chapter five of the prompt, the way you said "I love you," over a bottle of beer.

* * *

Another meeting. Another day that was being disrupted.

Lucifer looked down. It was the sound of two servants pushing scraping rock with all their might across the floor that made him look towards them; as a statue that dwarfed everyone in the room was being slid across the floor, the horrid scratching- scraping sound echoed through the large room, bouncing off the ceiling. It was one of his Commandments, the Commandment of Truth, grinding against the marble floor as his gigantic form slid from behind the ornate doors towards the king's throne. Half way there one of his legs gets snagged on the carpet, almost tumbling over as the women panic at the thought of breaking one of the strongest demons of the kingdom into tiny shards of rock on the floor. The sound of the grinding stone goes on and on as no one speaks, the large group of disheveled men and women huddled to the side, another group walking slowly behind the moving statue- until finally the servants, utterly exhausted, place the stone form of a roaring six armed two headed demon Commandment at the bottom of the King's feet.

The now, once feared demon turned into an ornament- is holding a squished hotdog, also turned to stone between his fists.

The group of children waiting for his attention look awful. Some were swaying side to side, faces red, pieces missing, one blue demon soaked and feathers dripping all over the floor, another shaking an empty bottle with great sadness, and many of them were leaning against each other- to keep standing.

And there in front them, was Meliodas. Unrepentant, like the leader of the group he was; with his hair disheveled, soaked to the bone, and dozens of red lipstick kisses over his face and skin and clothes smelling strongly of liquor. His usual expressionless face instead extremely grumpy.

"Is a hotdog a sandwich?"

The Demon King brow twitches, the hand under his chin clenching slightly as he stares at his son.

"Pardon?"

Meliodas scowls, the young boy's face scrunching up as he waved his arms around. Far more animated as a drunk then the usual prince.

"Is a hot dog…" he sneezes, glaring at his own body in disgust, before grabbing a small napkin Gowther hands him, "... a sandwich?"

Lucifer looks upon his son, then the crying defeated babysitter behind the group of nine children, and his now dead Commandment.

Meliodas kept talking, blowing his nose into the hankie.

"We were seeing if we could drown in a barrel of booze, so's we were throwing the lid back on and didn't let Mortician-" Here the blue demon behind him shrieked loudly, her wet feathers puffing up as she hissed- "there out' ands there was a lot of struggling, tons of bullshit, and then this asshole-" he points loosely at the general direction of the statue.

"The Commandment of Truth, my general Balam?" The King asked.

"Yes, that asshole-" meliodas sneezed again, "'h'wanted the barrel." Meliodas glared at the dead man, "it was mine."

His greatest warrior- his scariest fiend. His spawn of a child killed someone who could murder him with a flick, with a trick question?

 _Is_ _a_ _hot_ _dog_ _a_ _sandwich?_

"And what," Lucifer tapped his finger once upon his throne, "did he say?"

"Dont r'ember" Meliodas mumbles, before he suddenly perks up, eagerly waving behind him at the crying babysitter, that still was carrying the barrel. "Can we keep it? We gotta know if we can drown to death in booze. Because it's poisonous right? But- but were demons, and demons are immune to poisons, right? So can I drown in a booze barrel, or will we _breathe_ in a booze barrel?"

There is a moment of silence, soft crying in the back ground, before the King waves a hand.

"Bring me Appollabrex, tell him he has been given the honor of being a Commandment. And tell him I have a question to ask him."


End file.
